


Winter's Night Still Warm

by FallinDeath



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Forced Bonding, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Wolf Pack, Work In Progress, sort of Alpha/Omega
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallinDeath/pseuds/FallinDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is the uke son of the pack's Alpha and is about to enter into his first heat cycle to find a mate. But his father is aging and will not be able to hold his position as Alpha for much longer. To avoid his own death at the feet of a challenger his father offers up Charles in a mating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little something that's been in my head. Don't know where it's going yet or if it will be anything. It's inspired by the book _A Companion to Wolves_ by Sarah Monette and Elizabeth Bear, and one of my other fanfictions called _Wolves_.

 

Charles walked quickly from his father’s Heall. He knew the time was drawing near, but he didn’t want to be a part of the discussions going on in the Wolff Heallen at that very moment. He was of age now. His father was old, too old. He would not be able to hold the allegiance, the loyalty of the pack for much longer. The only thing that would stop the pack, and other wolf packs from challenging and killing his father for his position of Alpha would be to offer up a mating. Strong, aspiring wolves of all qualifying ages would be arriving from the brother packs. All of them willing to fight to the death for the chance at being Alpha of their own pack. Charles was just an afterthought. As the uke son of the Alpha he could not challenge his father to take his place. He was, along with the position, nothing more than a prize.

That was how he felt, though others tried to give him hope otherwise. From the time he was born he’d had to become used to the gazes of all dominant wolves. When he grew into a young man and his pheromones began calling to them searching for a mate, ha had to suffer their leers, their covetous gazes. All of them wanted him for one reason or another; at least their wolf sides wanted him. Having him meant power. Charles was certain that was all he would ever mean to any of them.

His first _heat_ was approaching and all suitors who were willing to take the risk were on their way. In fact, his father expected the suitors from Krafvlen in two days’ time.

It was midday, the sun was out high in the clear blue heavens, but the air was frigid. In Akkvar the air was always frigid, even in summer. Now they were nearing the end of the summer months and very soon after they would be in the thick of the harsh, dark winter. That’s how he knew—they all knew—his _heat_ would come upon him very soon. His body was already preparing to accept a seme’s seed. The long winter months served as a kind of hibernation—a time in which the pup or pups could grow healthy and strong inside him while he rested in preparation for the birthing in the spring. Ideally. Winters were always harsh. Food is scarce. The long dark months when the sun is mostly gone from their side of the world is not always as restful for bearing ukes as they are meant to be. For the most part, packs are shut inside the Wolff Heallen together for safety and survival. Charles looked forward to that not at all. He had no idea who might win him—who he might be shut in with for seven months.

Before, as he was growing, learning his skills as a warrior like all the others, such time in the Wolff Heallen was enjoyable. He had his Shield brothers then. Three other young wolves that he was to stick with through any battle—fighting together, watching each other’s backs. _Fight for the wolves you’re with_. Always. Shield brothers were inseparable. As young pups in training they become drawn to each other and form bonds of love and trust so unbreakable that if one died in battle they could never be replaced.

Every winter Charles spent sleeping in a corner of the grand Heallen wound up in furs and entwined with his Shieldmates. This winter would be the first he’d spend away from them. He would have a loft room alone with his mate.

Most wolves could choose their mates, fall in love, whatever they wanted. If they felt drawn to each other they would mate, be happy. As a uke son of the Alpha Charles didn’t get that luxury. He had to kneel naked and alone in a circle of strange wolves while they growled and fought over him like a piece of meat in lean winter. The scent of his _heat_ driving them mad while he keened and writhed and leaked pheromone-laced arousal down his thighs.

He felt sick thinking about it. The only good thing about it was that he would have to endure only one mating. In old tradition a mating for position as Alpha allowed several of the strongest wolves to come forward and mount the bearer. Alpha was decided by whose seed was successful in impregnating the poor bitch.

Charles shuddered. He could only imagine what that must have been like. To be held helplessly in the rapture of _heat_ while one ruthless, lustful brute thrust into him after another. He paled and stumbled. Reaching out he caught the wooden rail of a fence and stood hunched over while the nausea passed.

“Charles?” It was Alex. When he looked up Raven and Sean were not far behind. His Shield brothers. Never was he happier to see them. “Are you all right?” Alex’s voice was low, soothing, and his face so full of concern. Charles smiled. Raven and Sean were also looking at him as if the slightest sound would startle him and make him bolt. Like him, they all knew what was going on in the Heallen.

Charles shared a look with Raven, his sister in blood, his Shield sister in battle. His twin. “I don’t want to be here now,” he said attempting a smile. They all nodded.

“The Falls?” Raven suggested sharing a sly smile with Alex and Sean.

“The Falls,” they chorused at the same time.

The High Raek Falls were miles away. Too far away for such a small group to go on their own in these treacherous lands. But his little group had been there many times. It was their private escape made more exquisite because it was forbidden to go off on their own, especially without telling anyone.

“Absolutely,” Charles smiled brightly for the first time in what seemed like months. “Let’s go.”

The four of them ducked behind one of the barns in the field out of sight of the Wolff Heallen. The transformation was swift. A haze of silver mist and then four large wolves burst into the long grass racing away from the walls of the Heallen, away from the safety of the pack.

 

* * *

 

The four young wolves lay stretched out on the flat rock. Even with winter on its way in a few short months the sunlight bathing the large rock overhanging the pool was warm and bright. Charles and Alex were sitting close together in human form again, talking and sharing jokes. Raven and Sean were still in wolf form bathing in the warmth of the sun. At one point Alex tossed a pebble at the dozing wolves. It hit Sean in the rear flank and he yelped and rolled over into Raven. Alex and Charles roared with laughter as Raven nipped Sean with her sharp teeth and the two rolled and scuffled over the side of the boulder. Before long the two wolves were playing and racing in the shallows of the riverbank.

Charles watched them go, a fondness in his eyes, when Alex cleared his throat.

He looked back at his Shield brother.

“Alex?”

The young wolf rubbed the back of his neck. There was a deep set frown on his face as he mulled over his thoughts and what he wanted to say. Charles didn’t push him knowing he would talk in his own time.

Eventually, Alex met his eyes.

“I’d fight for you, you know,” he said, his voice low. “If I thought I had any chance at all of winning. I’d fight for you.”

Charles was stunned. They’d grown up together, fought together, bled together. They trusted and cared for each other like blood brothers. It didn’t surprise him that his Shield brother thought about it. But it warmed his heart to hear.

“Oh, Alex,” he said, and his voice trembled just the smallest bit. To not have to mate with possibly a complete stranger—to have someone he knew cared about him and not the position of Alpha…it would have been nice. But Alex was right. He stood no chance of winning. “Oh, my friend,” he reached over and touched Alex’s cheek. “I know you would.” He blinked swiftly to keep his eyes from watering. “And I wish very much that you could.”

Charles reached down and gripped his friend’s hand. “But knowing you would do so is more than enough. Thank you.”

Alex made a face and looked away. “It’s _not_ enough. If I were stronger I could be a suitor, I could win you. Then you wouldn’t have to suffer for the rest of your life.”

Charles swallowed thickly. “It’s not certain that it will be all bad,” he said attempting a smile. However, he had a feeling he knew where Alex was going with this.

“Come on, Charles,” Alex nearly growled. “We all know _he_ is going to step forward as a suitor. No one in our pack can defeat him.”

“ _No one in our pack_ ,” Charles repeated quickly trying to calm his own heart of such fears even as he tried to assuage Alex’s. “There are many packs, many suitors will come.” He blinked and a tear slid down his cheek. “And I’ve prayed to the gods every day that one of them can beat him.”

Alex pulled up the hand gripping his and held it to his lips. “I am sorry, Charles. I’m not helping you at all speaking my fears to you out loud. Fears that are already your own. I am sorry.”

Charles shook his head, letting his friend know that he didn’t blame him for anything. How could he? He couldn’t, not when Alex’s concern was for him.

“My friend,” Charles quickly wiped the tear from his cheek and smiled watching Raven and Sean’s return. The red and brown wolves were drenched as they splashed back toward the boulder through the shallows. “The last thing I want to do right now, here of all places, is think about what _might_ happen. Come on.” He got to his feet and held a hand out to Alex. When he pulled him up they both leapt off the rock into the river. When they emerged they were wolves again—wolves had such simpler cares. Things that worried their human counterparts barely held a candle to the thrill of the run, the bond of the pack. The four wolves raced the riverbank, the woods, tangled with each other in the long grasses of the open fields, barking, growling, and playing. Not caring. For the first time in a very long time nothing mattered but each other.


	2. Chapter 2

It was nearly dark when they returned to their village and the Wolff Heallen beyond. His Shieldmates went to their family homes in the village to change their filthy clothes. If they all entered the Heall looking like they’d rolled in mud everyone would know where they’d been. They were reluctant to leave him, but it appeared no one had noticed their absence and Charles waved them off with a smile. When he entered the Wolff Heallen he was hit all at once by the loud ruckus, and delicious aroma of supper time. The Heallen was mostly one large hall with long, solid wooden tables and benches room enough for the entire pack and more to eat all at once. Three large hearths were centered in three of the walls, all of them roaring with life. Torches and braziers lit the hall fully. Charles could see nearly the entire pack was present, gathered for dinner. The servers were busy, hurrying to bring the food out of the kitchens to the tables. They were all younger pups who were not of age to mate yet, aside from Moira.

They helped Kayla Silverfox, the lead cook of their pack, to prepare and serve each meal. In a pack everyone worked, everyone had a place. Charles remembered those days well. They weren’t so very long ago. Every pup when they were not busy training did their fair share of work in the kitchens before they earned their place as a warrior. It was not required to become a fighter, however, everyone knew that survival was better if each pup were prepared. Charles smiled at one of the servers in particular as she passed. Some wolves, like Moira, did not have the stomach for battle. He certainly didn’t feel it made her weak in any way, but not all felt as he did. She didn’t let it bother her, though. She threw all she had into every task—took pride in her work. It was one of the things Charles admired about her. If he were not the Alpha’s son he would have been content working in the kitchens or the fields for the rest of his days as Moira would do. The only thing that stopped him from wishing that too strongly was that he would have missed out on the bond he shared with his Shield brothers and he wouldn’t give that up for anything.

From a young age he and Moira had been friends, inseparable. They thought for certain they would bond in the same group when the time came. But when Charles bonded with Sean, Alex, and his sister Raven, Moira never bonded with any Shield brothers of her own. It happened sometimes. It was a sign that battle was never meant to be a suitable place for them. Charles was surprised that fate chose _him_ to bond and not Moira. If any wolf did not have a liking for killing, it was Charles, nor did any feel more out of place on the battlefield, in the training yard. That is not to say he lacked skill. The sword was at home in his hand. His wolf’s fangs have tasted their share of blood, both human and troll. Charles had earned his warrior stripes after all.

At a young age he saved himself and his mother from a trellwitch. The black bands of the warrior were tattooed into the flesh of his left bicep that very night by his own father—his blade still steaming in the winter air with the trellwitch’s black blood. Charles had been working beside his mother in the far fields gathering the last of the ripe wild berries that grew along the edges of their crops to the west. The sun was dangerously low. Cold and darkness were overtaking the land. They should have gone back with the other workers hours ago, but his mother insisted that she would not leave until they were done. Charles worked fast trying to get them out of there as quickly as possible; knowing no amount of talk or persuasion would budge the stubbornness of his mother.

The troll had come from underground practically under their feet, but the troll must have misjudged their exact location. Trellwitches could mold the very stone of the earth, building tunnels and traps underneath the surface hidden from the most trained eye. When the ground slid away near their feet his mother lost her footing in her surprise nearly falling. In desperation Charles lunged managing to grasp his mother’s flailing hand and pulled her to safety. All wolves knew that if you fell into a trellwarren there was no coming back out. Angered that its easy meal was denied, the black hulking beast crawled to the surface. Charles screamed at his mother to run and not look back. She didn’t listen, she never listened. When the trellwitch lunged for the she-wolf Charles pulled his training sword from his belt and hacked off the clawed hand reaching for his mother. The screeching bellow hurt his ears, and made his very core shake and tremble with fear as the trellwitch turned on him. It towered over him dripping pale, milky saliva that melted the layers of frost on the ground wherever it landed. When that great maw opened with a roar Charles thrust up with all his might sending the sword up through the trellwitch’s chin and out the back of its skull. Acidic saliva splashed over his hands burning them. He yanked the sword out and then with one swing cut the head from the bulky shoulders. The head rolled at his feet facing up. Black eyes glistened in the fading light seeming to stare at him, hating him.

They’d been lucky. Lucky that the troll had misjudged—a mistake rarely, almost never made. Lucky there had been only one. The fight had not gone unnoticed. Soon he was surrounded by his pack as they sniffed out the area for any other danger and tended to his mother. His father hoisted him up on his shoulders bellowing and boasting his pride in his uke son. His son the witch-cleaver. Charles hated the name immediately. But he allowed his father to parade him around, and sat silently through the tattoo branding. It wasn’t until hours later that anyone noticed or cared that his hands had been severely burned. By then no amount of tending could keep away the scarring. He was only thirteen. The youngest in all their history to kill a full-grown troll single-handedly. It brought great honor to his father, but Charles never felt more than simple relief that he and his mother had not been killed.

Charles looked down at his hands as he walked along the edge of the Heallen hoping to avoid anyone’s attention until he could slip upstairs and change his clothes. The entire surface of his hands had burned but thankfully the only places that scarred were the areas the troll’s saliva had hit his flesh directly. His father told him they were a warrior’s pride. Proof that when death came knocking he’d survived. Charles would never say he regretted having the knowledge he’d needed to save his mother and defend himself. He’d really just rather that death did not come knocking again. Ever.

Charles hurried toward the stairs away from the Heall and the pack. No one called out to him so he was certain he could make it without being seen by anyone but Moira, and she wouldn’t tell anyone. He entered a long, wide hall lined with storage areas to his left and to his right were the communal baths. Just as he was passing the curtained entryway a large, meaty hand shot out, gripped him by the nape of his neck and hauled him into the steamy baths. A startled cry escaped his lips and another hand clapped over his mouth as he was slammed up against a wall. Charles clenched his eyes closed trying to calm his fear. He knew the scent of this wolf all too well, he didn’t need to see him or the cruel light in his dark eyes.

The man was nearly the size of a troll and he used all his heavy bulking mass to press the much smaller uke tightly into the wall. Charles could hardly breathe with the hand over his mouth and the weight compressing his lungs. His breathing through his nose grew short and desperate. He couldn’t help the small whimpering sound that filled his throat.

“Oh, Charles, Charles,” the deep voice sweetly mocked. Charles could hear the satisfied smile in those words. He clenched his eyes even tighter when one large hand pressed to his chest and rubbed its slow, sensual path down his body. Charles’ breath hitched sharply when that hated hand rubbed over his groin. He could hear the other man sniffing him, scenting him, felt his nose brush the side of his throat where Charles’ scent was strongest. Aside from the fact that he was practically suffocating, and being held and molested against his will, it was a mockery of a lover’s touch. That’s what frightened Charles the most. This wolf believed he had every right to lay claim on him, as if Charles was his already and the mating challenge was merely one last inconvenience. These little hidden moments had been going on since he was fifteen, but Charles had no idea how to make them stop. All the dominant wolves had their eyes on him, certainly. Many of them flirted with him, and on more than one occasion some had touched him or come onto him strongly. But always there was someone else around to pull them off of him, or their attentions were harmless enough that Charles could send a smile their way and all were content. But _this_ wolf always caught him by surprise. Always seemed to know when Charles would be completely alone, or when and where he’d be most vulnerable.

“Come on, Charles, let me see those pretty blues of yours,” the deep voice soothed. Charles refused. He couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t stand to see the lust, the arrogance in the other man’s eyes. Most of all he couldn’t bear to see the deep-seated cruelty that had been there since they were children. But the other man did not take refusal well. The large hand rubbing gently against his groin gripped him harshly and squeezed. Charles’ scream was barely audible behind his tormentor’s hand. “Open your _fucking_ eyes, Charles.” The man’s voice dropped the act of any kind affection and became instantly dangerous—hate-filled—the words punctuated with another harsh squeeze.

Reluctantly Charles gave in. He slowly peeked his eyes open but he stared straight ahead into the man’s broad chest. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the other’s gaze and prayed that he didn’t demand it.

“That’s right, lovely,” the deep voice was soothing again; satisfied by his submission. The cruel hand released its painful hold. “Now,” a thick finger trailed down his cheek, “you’ve been off to places you shouldn’t. You ought to know better than that, little brother. _Bad_ things happen to ukes when they disobey the laws laid down by their betters.” Charles really didn’t like the way he said that. The large man chuckled. “I should—”

“ _Cain_ ,” a voice barked from the doorway. Relief soared through Charles’ chest as Cain instantly released him and turned to face the newcomer. Logan stood there, a scowl on his rugged face and a hand on the hilt of one of his blades. Charles could have kissed Logan right then. Cain laughed deeply, a threatening sound in Charles’ opinion, as he strode out of the baths. As he passed one large hand shot out and hit Logan square in the chest knocking him back several feet. It was witnessing such effortless strength like that that caused Charles to despair that anyone would be able to defeat his step-brother.

When Cain was gone, Logan turned to him. “Are you all right, kid?”

Logan was the only one who still called him that. He used to hate it because once he’d earned his warrior stripes he was considered an adult and it was an insult. But eventually he’d come to realize Logan did not mean it that way.

“ _Kid_ , did he hurt you?”

Charles startled. When did Logan get so close? Charles glanced up at him. His whole body was shaking now, but he managed a quick nod.

“All right,” Logan said, gruffly. “Get up stairs and get cleaned up. Your father expects you at his side for dinner.”

Charles nodded again. He turned to get to his room as quickly as possible, but at the doorway he stopped. “Thank you, Logan,” he said quietly—it was all he could manage.

“Get out of here,” Logan growled. “Thank me by being on time for supper.”

Charles smiled. Logan was a mean bastard, but he was also one of the biggest softies when it came to dealing with females and ukes.

Once Charles was gone Logan headed back to the Heall. He made certain Cain was there and not upstairs attempting to catch Charles alone again. Logan had seen Charles walk in—watched him head for the stairs and get dragged into the baths. He didn’t like what was happening to the Alpha’s son. What their Alpha did was not uncommon. Offering up a uke son or daughter in a mating for the position of Alpha was a relatively peaceful solution for a succession over the pack. Wolves could die in the battle for the offering, they were violent after all, but they were more about proving one’s strength and therefore their right to command obedience. Battles where Alpha’s were challenged directly were bloodbaths because they were never just between the Alpha and the challenger. Those loyal to the Alpha and those backing the challenger inevitably got involved. They were tragedies. Many lives were always lost in that madness, and often times, innocent lives.

But that didn’t make what was going to happen to Charles any less of a tragedy. Logan looked down the long table and met Cain’s eyes. The large wolf grinned. Logan seethed. He hated the man. He knew of his cruelty—knew how much Cain despised his step-brother and had made it his personal vendetta to make certain Charles suffered. Logan did not want to think about what would become of the sweet uke when— _if_ , he amended, not wanting to seal Charles’ fate—Cain won him for a mate.

Logan glared at the man long after Cain lost interest in their staring match. Gods help them all if Cain became Alpha.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I finally have a plan for this fic. Can't promise quick updates, though. But here is the next little bit. Happy reading.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alex asked Charles the next day. They, along with Sean and Raven were serving their time chopping wood for the fires. Charles hefted the axe again and swung, splitting a log in two.

“No, Alex, I don’t want to talk about it,” he huffed.

“I can smell him on you,” Alex trudged on. “Charles, if he—”

Charles lodged the axe in the base stump with a growl. “He didn’t, all right? Logan stopped him. I’m fine.” He almost walked away then, but knew he did not really have anywhere he could go without running the risk of finding himself alone in Cain’s grasp again. Aside from that Kayla would have his hide for shirking his duty. He sighed and turned back to his shield brother. Alex only meant well. He was an undeserving target for Charles’ frustrations. “I am sorry, Alex,” he said, returning to pry his axe out of the stump. “I just _really_ don’t want to talk about him.” 

Alex nodded finally after watching him closely for a moment. Of course—why discuss it when they both knew nothing could be done? Raven and Sean shared a worried glance between them before continuing their work. 

Charles used to hate chopping wood. The action always seemed mindless and barbaric. Now, though, he was glad for the repetitive, rhythmic motion. He was feeling increasingly restless and irritable. His very flesh felt like it was crawling beneath his heated skin. He could sense the growing animosity amongst the dominant males in their pack—could feel their hunger amplifying through the pack sense. All were signs that his _heat_ was very near. Gods, he couldn’t believe this was happening to him.

A howl erupted in the distance and they all looked up.

“That’s Hank, isn’t it?” Raven asked, looking to where members of the pack were starting to gather at the main entrance to their village. 

“Sounds like him,” Alex said. “I think he and his shield brothers are patrolling today."

“What do you think it is?” She said, on the tip of her toes. All of them had stopped working.

Charles wiped the sweat from his brow, trying not to care. When Hank walked out of the trees with another man at his side, Charles turned away and hefted his axe again. 

“Looks like Krafvlen’s scout,” Sean spoke up. Charles knew it was. The Krafvlen pack was due to arrive in the morning and the other packs very soon after that. He didn’t care, or at least, tried to convince himself that he didn’t. 

“Mmm, he’s handsome at least, Charles,” Raven said, with a sorry attempt to lighten his mood. 

Anger flared in his heart that his sister could say such a thing. As if it mattered who came. No one would be able to best Cain. Charles knew it, they all knew it. But he couldn’t help but glance in the newcomer’s direction, his curiosity piqued against his better judgment. The wolf speaking with his pack brothers was tall and slender. His hair was very light in color, and a strong chin displayed the scruff grown on his long journey. He was indeed handsome—a capable warrior, too, if the muscles of his arms were as strong as they looked. Charles remembered seeing the man briefly years ago at a wolfmoot, when all the packs had met together to renew good relations as was tradition. Charles had been much younger then and far more interested in meeting with all the wolves his own age than greeting and mingling with the warriors. This one had been one of those warriors, though fairly new to his stripes at the time. But Charles remembered those eyes watching him as he played with the younger wolves.

Almost as if sensing his regard the wolf looked over the gathered pack members and straight into Charles’ soul. At least that’s how Charles felt when that steely gray-green gaze hit him, searing him, leaving him feeling naked and vulnerable. Charles quickly wiped the sweat from his brow again to cover his insecurity, giving him an excuse to tear away from those eyes. Returning to his work he tried to ignore how he could feel the stranger’s gaze penetrating his very flesh, tried to ignore the tension in his rigid shoulders and back until the Krafvlen scout was finally led away to meet their Alpha and partake of the pack’s hospitality. Charles nearly collapsed with exhaustion when his muscles finally relaxed, the tension bleeding away leaving him limp and weak. 

Raven looked at her brother with a knowing smile. “I like him,” she said.

Charles scowled. “He is no different from any of them.” He looked into the distance, into the thick forest surrounding their village, as if he could see them coming. The best, the strongest, the cruelest, the most arrogant that their brother packs had to offer were marching to Akkvar right that very moment. None of them cared for him; none of them wanted _him_ , really. Charles was just the tool they needed to gain the power they craved. He imagined many of them would take one look at the size of Cain and decide neither Charles nor the position of Alpha was worth it.

Just as Charles was about return to his mindless task, Rogue came out of the Wolff Heallen and hurried over to them. 

“Charles,” she said. “Your father would like to speak with you.”

Alex sent him a worried look. Charles sighed heavily. He knew this was coming. He and his father had not spoken much since the decision to offer Charles in a mating was made. He imagined his father wished to justify his decision. 

He looked at his shield brothers.

“I will be right back. This won’t take long.”

Charles headed inside. One glance into the Heall told him his father, along with nearly all the dominant wolves of their pack had gathered to welcome the Krafvlen scout and hear what tales he brought with him across the ice lands. Kayla Silverfox, Moira, and the young wolves were all serving meat and ale to the nearly always hungry males. Charles met the eyes of his step-brother immediately. The cruel smirk on Cain’s face made his skin crawl. The hulk of a man was sitting next to his father, knowing perfectly well that Charles would have to walk past him. On the other side of their Alpha sat the newcomer. Charles quickly avoided his gaze when the man looked up at his entrance.

Walking further into the Heall toward the long tables where the males were beginning to feast felt like walking into a den of sex and hormones. He could sense their physical desires and his own body’s response. His blood heated and his body began to ache. By the time he reached his father he was panting for breath and struggling for the sake of his self-respect to stay under control. It was a task made nearly impossible as he could sense every set of eyes on him. A new scent filled his lungs and Charles nearly moaned out loud. The Krafvlen man’s alluring scent was maddening. Sweat slid down the side of his face and he felt light-headed. His eyes were drawn to the dominant wolf against his will and Charles had the fleeting thought that the man was much more beautiful up close.

“Father,” he practically gasped, ripping his eyes away from the newcomer, away from all of them to focus on the one wolf who did not desire him. He could feel the lust in Cain’s eyes raking over his skin like a physical torment. Being so close to him more than any of the others nearly threw him into a panic.

“Please…you wanted to speak with me.” Charles clenched his jaw and silently begged his father to take him away from them all.

“Charles, yes, of course,” Brian Xavier stood and clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Charles, I would like to introduce you to our brother from the Krafvlen pack. This is Erik Lehnsherr,” Charles’ eyes widened, “son of Jakob Lehnsherr(1), the Krafvlen Alpha. He honors us with his presence.”

Son and heir to an Alpha. Why in the gods’ world would he travel to take part in a mating when he could challenge his own father for the right of Alpha? If Erik were the strongest in his pack he could even inherit the right of Alpha without any challengers once his father began to weaken with age. Heirs usually did not risk the increased danger of a mating when their rise to Alpha—being born and bred from the strongest wolf in the pack—was practically assured within their own pack.

“For all the tales we hear of Charles the Witch-cleaver, I’m surprised to find him,” Erik pointedly looked him up and down, “rather small.” Chuckles of laughter sounded around the table.

Charles’ cheeks flushed. His usual hot-headedness would have had him striking the man with his own snarky insults, but this room was driving him mad. He needed out.  
“The pleasure, of course, is mine,” Charles said quickly, looking to his father again. “Father, please.”

“Yes.” Brian stood from the table and all who were gathered bowed their heads in deference. “I will only be a moment, brothers.”

Charles had never felt such relief as when his father put an arm around his shoulders and led him away from the Heall and up the stairs into the Alpha’s private living quarters. Once the heavy door closed behind him Charles felt he could breathe again. 

For the first time in a very long time Charles found himself alone with his father. They did not dislike each other necessarily; they simply had very little in common. The strongest, most dominant male warrior in the pack did not know how to treat his uke son when he was born. When Charles did not express much interest in his training, Brian felt the last thread that kept them together as father and son had been severed. This was why the night when Charles slayed the trellwitch to save himself and his mother had reawakened Brian’s pride as a father. They hoped their relationship would grow from that undeniable bond between warriors. But by then Charles was old enough for dominant wolves to begin expressing their interest and Brian yet again found himself in a realm of the unknown. It was difficult to talk when the two did not understand each other at all and were too prideful to try.

Brian turned and looked at his son. “Charles,” he paused. “We have not had a chance to speak since all of this ugly business began.” Brian sighed and turned away sinking down into a chair with a weariness Charles did not know his father bore. “I can only hope one day you will forgive me.”

“Father,” Charles began, but the Alpha held up a hand. 

“I never asked you what you thought—how you felt about all this. But,” he put a hand over his heart, his face pained. “Your sister…”

“There is no need,” Charles interrupted. The thought of his dear twin sister being offered up was unthinkable. “You made the only choice you could. There is nothing to forgive.” As much as Charles hated the position he was in, he would never give up his sister to save himself. Knowing that with all his heart made it impossible to hate his father, even knowing Cain would be the one to win him. 

Brian looked on his son with a new pride in his eyes. It seemed there _was_ something they could see eye to eye on, and though it did not erase all the bitterness or quench the fear, Charles felt he finally had his father’s respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1- According to the comic book fiction, Erik Lehnsherr was actually born _Max Eisenhardt_. His father’s name was Jakob Eisenhardt.


	4. Chapter 4

The days following the Krafvlen scout's arrival—Erik Lehnsherr's arrival—brought the rest of their brother packs to Akkvar. Charles knew there would be many. A chance at being Alpha of their own pack was too much temptation for any seme worth his salt. But—Charles tried not to stare with his mouth open—he hadn't expected this many. Each pack seemed to be represented with a small army. Charles did not want to be too close as each one arrived so he sat up on the small hill where the pack's wood-chopping blocks were located. His shield brothers were always at his side watching with him as the packs marched through their front gate.

It did not seem to matter where Charles went to try to avoid them they always knew where he was. They could smell him. Their eyes were always on him. Most were friendly enough. They wanted to talk—some even seemed to want to get to know him. But even then Charles felt he couldn't trust them. They all wanted to be Alpha. Their pleasantries felt forced, their eyes seemed to say something entirely different than their words. Charles was grateful that his shield brothers refused to be parted from him—like a personal guard. He felt bad, but he couldn't ask them to stop.

He was terrified. Almost more than he was the night he saved his mother from the trellwitch. He was afraid of being alone with any of them. And so, Raven and Sean's and especially Alex's constant vigilance was an enormous comfort.

As the days went by the Akkvar pack was busy with their preparations for the long winter. Hunters had their hands full with gathering enough red meat and fish to smoke. The harvest had to be gathered and stored. Wood needed to be hauled and chopped. Charles was happy to throw himself into the work. It kept his mind busy—made him forget for some time during the day that the level of aggression between the suitors was increasing with each passing day. Many of them spent a majority of their time in wolf form, their instincts becoming overpowering as Charles' heat drew nearer. He learned very quickly that he had to avoid them at all costs when they were in beast form. His very presence sent them into a madness—a raw need to dominate, to fight off any rivals and claim the uke as their own.

One morning when Charles woke he was terrified to find the males slowly stalking, circling around the corner where he and his shieldmates had fallen asleep in the Heall. The ache in his groin was terrible, nearly unbearable. A constant hot, throbbing, yearning need left unfulfilled. It would be soon. Very soon. His scent was driving them to frenzy.

Alex and Sean growled to warn them off, but it was obvious the larger males were not afraid of them. The suitors would rip them apart to get to the uke if they stood in the way. Charles was not ashamed to admit that if his sister had not screamed for their father, he would have. The Alpha's quick entrance and roaring voice broke up the advancing males. With his shield brothers huddled around him and his father guarding his back, Charles escaped unharmed. He did not dare risk that again. From that moment on he slept with his shieldmates on the floor of his father's bedroom.

Brian Xavier did not argue.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Logan, please," Charles asked in earnest a few days later. The two of them stood in the stableyards behind the Wolf Heallen. Logan preferred the company of the horses to that of others of his own kind. Charles begged Alex and the others to give him just a few minutes alone with the seme and they agreed only because they trusted Logan. "Please, you are the only one who could possibly beat him."

But Logan was shaking his head and Charles' heart sank. "I can't. I'm sorry, kid." He turned and his gaze was ensnared by something in the distance. Charles looked to find Kayla hanging laundry on the lines with some of the other females behind the Heall. "My heart lies elsewhere." Charles swallowed thickly with understanding.

"You don't have to claim me," Charles' voice nearly choked on the word. "Please, just don't let it be him." Even as the words left his mouth Charles was ashamed of them—ashamed that he'd been brought to begging.

Logan looked at him then. "I can't. I am sorry, Charles," he said, and he truly was. Charles did not doubt his sincerity—a rare thing from the lone wolf. He did not blame him either. If Logan wished to pursue someone he loved, what right did Charles have to ask him to do otherwise?  
Charles could feel the weight of his dread settle on his shoulders—after the brief reprieve of hope it seemed to fall on him all at once. His eyes watered and he turned his head away.

"I am sorry, kid." Logan took a step forward with his hand out and Charles quickly stepped back.

"No, forgive me," Charles said quickly, fighting to keep his voice from shaking and failing utterly. "I have no right to ask this of you, or anyone." They stood for a moment in awkward silence. Then Charles turned and practically fled, casting one last muttered apology over his shoulder.

When Charles turned the corner of the stable he almost ran into the Krafvlen scout. The uke lost his balance a little and the seme reached out to steady him.

"Erik," Charles gasped, wiping his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat with shame. It looked as if the man had been leaning against the wall. He must have heard every word. Charles could feel the seme's eyes, feel his scrutiny, and he could not meet his gaze.

"Charles," Erik said at last. "Why do you cry?"

Charles felt humiliation overwhelm him. Was Erik making fun of him again? No one was supposed to witness his weakness like this. No one outside of those he trusted. Charles shrugged out of the others' grasp and left without a word.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Erik watched the uke leave. Long after Charles turned a corner and disappeared out of sight, Erik remained tormented by his scent. It lingered like the sweetness of wildflowers in the rolling hills during the summer months, when the sun warmed a wolf's fur like a blanket. He ached for it. Erik's hands tingled where they had touched him—where he'd held him for however a brief moment. Erik slowly lifted his hands to cup them over his nose and mouth and inhaled deeply.

Erik heard the conversation between Charles and the lone wolf. He did not understand what had the uke so upset. Erik had seen females offered in a mating before. They always smelled of fear, but a fear of the unknown, nervousness. Underneath it all was also excitement, curiosity, hope that the seme who won them was handsome and loving. But with Charles…Erik smelled terror. Underneath the heady cloud of Charles' natural scent and that of his growing heat, the uke was absolutely terrified.

Before Erik realized what he was doing, he was following the trail left behind by the beautiful uke.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles meandered through the stable yards and the many buildings in between. He wiped his eyes again a bit angrily. In his haste to escape one embarrassing situation after another he failed to remember that he was supposed to meet back up with Alex and the others. A mistake he immediately regretted when a massive shadow blacked out his own from behind. Charles turned just in time to see a large hand grip him by the throat and slam him into the side of a barn wall. The uke noticed too late that they were tucked into a little alcove between buildings hidden from sight. No one would know he was here unless they passed by close enough to smell his fear.

Charles got a lungful of Cain's scent before the air was knocked out of him. That large, vice-like hand squeezed his throat just enough to cut off his air supply but not to damage his flesh.

"Hello, Charles," Cain rumbled lowly, releasing his grip so the uke could suck in a desperate breath. "We need to stop meeting like this." The nail of a single finger trailed down Charles' cheek.

"Cain," Charles rasped, mustering all the courage he had. "Let go of me. You'll have me soon enough. Until then…" he swallowed—glared at his adopted brother. "Keep your hands off me."

Cain's entire countenance darkened considerably—dangerously. Charles instantly regretted his moment of daring. Before Charles could react Cain grabbed him by the front of his shirt and lifted him high, slamming him into the hard wood wall behind him. Charles swore he heard his bones crack with the impact. He didn't even have the breath to cry out his pain.

"What goes on here?"

Charles' eyes opened. Erik stood a few yards away, anger evident in his gray-green eyes, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Erik," Charles whispered. To the seme it was a plea for help and it awakened the need to protect and defend. Not that Erik needed the extra incentive. The moment he turned the corner and saw the enormous seme slam the uke into the wall, rage flared up within him.

"Leave little man," Cain rumbled, turning his furious gaze on him. "If you know what is good for you."

Erik stood his ground without so much as a flinch. "Release him, unless you are prepared to fight for him here and now. You know that the others will gather to rip you apart for taking what is not rightfully yours."

Cain dropped Charles who crumpled to the ground when his legs wouldn't hold him. Charles looked up in time to see Cain turn on Erik and charge. He opened his mouth to yell a warning, knowing it would not help. He watched helplessly as Erik stood his ground. Charles had seen enemies pummeled to death by his brother's unstoppable charge before. Erik did not stand a chance.

Amazingly, Erik stepped out of the way at the last moment, dropped to the ground and swept out his leg tripping Cain. The momentum sent the large wolf flying face first into the wall of the next building. Charles stared dumbfounded. No one had ever knocked Cain off his feet before. Then Erik was beside him helping him to his feet.

"Come on," Erik ordered, pulling him by his arm and hauling him away from the maze of stables and away from where his brother rolled on the ground cursing in pain.

Charles' chest hurt every time he breathed, and Erik's fast pace was making him breath harder. The pain made him light-headed. "Erik," he mumbled, his eyes drooping closed as he struggled to hold onto his consciousness. "How—how did you—?"

"Don't speak, Charles," Erik growled.

Charles closed his mouth more to keep from being sick than obeying Erik's order. After a while he realized the seme was taking him to the pack's healers. "Please, there's no need. I'm fine."

"You are not," Erik growled again. Charles kept quiet after that. He didn't like having Erik angry with him.

Once they were inside the cabin Erik immediately lay him down on a bed. As his vision dimmed Charles searched out Erik's face only to see him disappear behind the gathering Healers.

"Erik, please," Charles mumbled before everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

Charles’ dreams while he slept were wrought with fear and pain, of darkness and… Cain. His adopted brother ruled everything in his dreams with the same dark cruelty Charles knew first hand in the waking world. But this time a sliver of light permeated the abyss. A shred of hope lifted his heart from the depths of his personal hell.

 _Erik_.

Erik had knocked Cain down. No one _ever_ , in all the time Charles knew him, ever made Cain even stumble let alone fall to the ground. If someone could do that, then someone could beat him. Charles clung to that hope as he woke to the gentle smell of medicinal herbs and sunlight on his face.

He glanced around but the face he wanted to see was not there. Hank leaned over him.

“Charles,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

The uke took a breath to answer and winced as sharp pain lanced through his ribcage.

“Don’t move much, Charles,” Hank said, concern set in his kind eyes. “You survived quite the beating.”

Now that he drew attention to it, Charles really began to feel the aches and deep bruising all along his spine and shoulders in addition to the agony of his tightly wrapped ribs.

“What happened?” Charles nearly whispered. His throat felt dry and hoarse.

“Cain broke five of your ribs, severely bruised the rest along with your spine—well, nearly your entire back is a blanket of bruising. You’re going to need to remain in bed until your heat—”

Charles cursed under his breath.

“Standing, walking, too much movement is going to be agony until you’ve healed a bit.” Hank looked at the ground a moment, swallowing thickly. “He nearly killed you, Charles. That much force…”

            Charles shook his head. He did not want to hear how close it had been. He did not want to know that, as damaged as he was, the moment his heat fell upon him he would still have to allow a seme to win him and then mount him. The fact that that seme would likely be Cain made him nauseous.

            “Erik,” he managed at last.

            “What?”

            “Where is Erik? From Krafvlen. I would like to see him.”

            “I’m sorry, Charles,” Hank said. “But your father will not allow anyone in here while you recover, except Healers and your shieldmates—”

            “ _Charles_.”

            “Charles,” his sister echoed immediately behind Alex.

            A moment later his shield brothers were gathered around his bed. Questions of how he was feeling flew at him so fast Charles had to force a smile rather than let them see that their voices were causing the worst headache he’d ever known.

            But it was good that they were there, even so. All his body wanted to do was go back to sleep, to recover. But he did not want to dream again. As the afternoon wore on their quiet conversation and gentle teasing comforted his panicked heart, and kept his mind distracted from how much he hurt despite the Healers’ herbs. Most importantly, he was glad not to have to be alone. He felt far too vulnerable. Being alone with only the kind-hearted Healers would have been far more than he could handle at the moment.

            They talked for hours. Mostly his shield brothers and Hank talked to each other and Charles tried valiantly to stay awake to listen. Alex noticed and moved from his position on the floor to sit beside Charles on the bed. Charles gifted him with a tired smile. After a moment Alex reached for his hand and Charles gave it a small squeeze.

            “How are you really?” Alex asked softly.

            He knew Alex would see through anything less than the truth and his friend deserved the truth.

            “Not good,” Charles admitted, the pain in his body and his fears returning to the forefront of his mind.

            Alex watched him a moment. “Hank did not tell you?”

            Charles frowned. “Tell me what? I only woke up this morning. You came here almost immediately after.”

            “I’m sorry,” Alex said. “We were not allowed in here until the Healers gave the word. Still,” he glared over his shoulder at Hank. “He should have told you.”

            “Tell me what?” Charles whispered, a new fear taking hold in his heart. Was Erik all right? “What happened?”

            “When Cain hurt you,” a look of regret crossed Alex’s features, “the others were furious. They, the suitors—they all turned on him and forced him out of Akkvar. He is not permitted to fight for you. Your father decreed it. Charles,” he placed a steady hand on the uke’s shoulder. “He will not have you.”

            Charles heard his friend’s words as if from a vast distance. The words seemed without meaning, though he heard them clearly.

            _He is not permitted…_

            _He is not permitted…_

            Charles felt a great tremor overwhelm his body.

            _He will not have you._

            Charles’ throat closed off with the terrible, wracking sobs of relief. Years of fear and pain, years of hatred for his adopted brother sprang from him in rivers of salty, bitter tears. When he could cry no more, when his thoughts could no longer tread the troubled waters of the chaos in his head, he slept again. For the first time since he was a young child he did not dream of the dark things Cain inspired. For the first time he dreamed of something else… _someone_ else. It was the first time since he could remember that his heart dared feel anything akin to hope.

            He still had to mate. He still had to kneel in heat and wait for a winner to claim him, any of which could be cruel or terrible in their own way. But no one could be as bad as Cain, and Charles would gladly accept them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this update took so long. Life happens and sometimes I lose interest. Enjoy.

The next several days were agony for Charles. His back pained him mercilessly. He didn't want to have to lay on it, but the mere thought of trying to turn or even budge was torturous. Besides, his broken ribs made certain that any other position would be even worse for him. So Charles quietly endured. More than once, in the middle of the night when the healers and his shieldmates were asleep, the uke let himself cry silently from the pain. But it was worth it. Every moment was, he told himself. It was worth it to not have to face Cain afterward. He rejoiced in that fact.

It was the morning of the sixth day that Charles woke gasping, a fire burning in his groin like he'd never felt before. He was hot and wet between his legs, his unbearable arousal leaked from him in slow rivulets, dampening the blanket beneath him.

"Shit," he whined softly, moving his hips trying to relieve the agonizing pressure of being on the brink of coming but being unable to. He needed a mate's knot to satisfy the heat and nothing short of that was going to help in any way.

Alex shot up from his mat on the floor where he'd been sleeping. His eyes wide as he sniffed the air. Raven and Sean woke immediately after. All eyes were on Charles.

Charles practically writhed as he struggled to breathe normally. He covered his face in his hands and moaned.

"It's time," he cried. "Tell father," was all he managed. His body was wracked with pain, the burning heat on top of it was more than he ever imagined. He didn't think he could do this. By tradition the fight for him wouldn't even begin until after dark. This was only the beginning and Charles was beside himself. He still had to hike out to the old ruins outside Akkvar. For as long as his pack had lived there all heat rights were conducted out there. Wolf fights of this size were dangerous and no pack wanted to risk losing innocents when the competing males were out of their minds with heat.

Somewhere in the painful haze Charles heard his sister and Sean race out of the Healers hut. Alex stayed offering to help, asking what he could do. But there was nothing really to be done. Charles pulled himself together enough to try to sit up. Alex moved forward instinctively to help steady him when he struggled, but Charles reared back as if he'd been struck.

"Please, don't, Alex," Charles gasped, eyes clenched shut. Alex looked hurt, but stepped back anyway. "I'm sorry. I--your scent."

Alex was a young, healthy male and as far as Charles' body was concerned, virile. Not much else mattered during a heat cycle and Charles' body flushed with arousal the moment his shieldbrother's scent had flooded his lungs. He wished it could be Alex. The uke would gladly accept his seed without hesitation were he not in the middle of a damned offering. But the suitors would do what they had done to Cain--worse, they would likely rip Alex apart if he took what he hadn't earned.

Charles peeked his eyes open looking at his friend. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Alex swallowed. He obviously was not happy about the entire situation, but he nodded all the same. Charles didn't like it either. The one person whose comfort he wanted right now had to keep his distance.

"Alex," Charles spoke up. He couldn't let that hurt look remain on his dear friend's face. Alex wanted to be able to help, he shouldn't be punished. "Would you go to the Heallen and grab my pack for me? It's in the corner of my father's bedroom. It has my supplies for tonight."

Alex nodded eagerly. "Of course, I'll be back."

Charles heaved a sigh of relief once Alex was gone. He lay back down and curled into himself, suffering through the waves of agony shooting down his spine. He concentrated on breathing, deep and slow. The wet ache between his legs was actually bearable now that the shock and panic was subsiding. ..and as long as he didn't move.

He scoffed derisively. He wouldn't be allowed to just sit here, still and quiet. The ruins awaited. The mere thought of beginning that trek was daunting all on its own. His shieldmates could go with him--help him get there--but they would not be able to stay. For their own safety and that of any who would stand watch over the fight, they had to stay well beyond the threshold of scent for the competing males. Whoever it came down to--whoever won at the ruins--would seek out and fight anyone they scented in the area even if that wolf was not competing.

The door opened again and Charles looked up to see his father standing there, his hulk darkening the doorway, but he seemed hesitant to cross the threshold.

Brian stared at his son, his nostrils flared as he took in the ripe scent of heat. If he were honest with himself, he was a little disconcerted and uncomfortable that his own son's heat called even to him. Thankfully, his wolf understood that this uke before him was _pup_ and _blood_ and so the urge was easily discarded. Even so, he felt disturbed by the whole situation and was grossly unprepared to handle one of his own children going through a heat cycle.

"Papa?" Charles said softly, his voice cracking on the word he had not used since he was a child. He was emotional, he couldn't help it. He felt alone and if even his own father couldn't be near him, it would be too much.

That was all it took, though. His sorrowful plea sparked the protective paternal nature of the Alpha and he was at Charles' bedside in two long strides. Strong, warm hands pulled the uke into a sitting position and pulled him into an embrace that was gentler than Charles had ever imagined possible from the man. Charles felt instantly at ease, that perhaps everything could be all right in the end. His father had been the rock of the pack's foundation since before Charles and Raven were born. He was always there, always strong. Brian was harsh and distant, but Charles knew that was because he had to be and he'd never held that against his father even when he'd struggled with it at times growing up. The Alpha had so much more to worry about than his immediate family and Charles knew his father had done the best he could. But now, his father's embrace, his very presence giving Charles something to cling to made up for it all.

"Everything will work out, pup," his father murmured above him. Charles nodded listening to his father's heartbeat and his deep voice when it rumbled through his solid, warm chest. Raven had followed their father into the hut but held back a little, uncertain. However, when Charles looked up at her there was a smile on her face.

Charles would be content to stay there like that forever but putting off the inevitable would only hurt him more down the road. Every wolf had a part to play and Charles needed to do his part. He'd not really contemplated what this all meant, what he was doing. He'd been terrified of being mated to Cain--consumed by the fear of being mated and bred to a monster for life. Still, he had been willing to do it because he was trying to spare Raven. But what he was ultimately doing was saving his father's life.

That was the bottom line.

Challengers did not leave the defeated party alive, ever. Charles swallowed thickly when tears prickled his eyes. He'd used his dear sister as an excuse, but he didn't want to see his father torn apart by a younger, stronger wolf either. He didn't want to see his father _defeated_. Watching the strongest, bravest wolf he'd ever known and admired, crushed beneath a challenger's feet...a shudder ran through his body. It was unbearable.

His father felt the shudder and mistook it for a reaction to heat. "Let's get you settled into the cart, pup."

Charles looked up at that. "Cart?"

"It's a ridiculous tradition making bearers hike out to the ruins," Brian huffed in a gruff voice. "I'm still Alpha and my injured pup is not going _walk_ to his own mating."

Charles smiled at his father, warmth spreading over his heart like a blanket.

Between his Alpha and his sister Charles managed to get to his feet, but he could barely keep his balance. He felt dangerously lightheaded and weak, and each step was wrought with a jarring pain he could hardly contain. The hand cart was mere feet from the Healers hut but by the time Charles reached it he was panting from the effort and eternally grateful for his father's foresight. On foot the uke never would have made it to his destination.

Brian held onto him while Raven and Sean arranged some thick furs over the bottom of the cart. Nothing was going to cushion the bumpy ride completely but they stacked them high hoping to make it as comfortable as possible. Charles looked around the empty yards between the buildings. Normally Akkvar would be crawling with activity, pack members working the fields, the smiths hammering in their forge, children running and playing beneath everyone's feet, and more recently, overrun with suitors pacing back and forth and scuffling with each other to test the waters. Now everything was quiet. He knew his pack would all be inside the Wolf Heallen preparing the feast to welcome the new Alpha to the pack the following day, and the suitors were all in wolf form racing through the woods, hunting, wrestling, working themselves up for the fight. Still, it felt surreal, and Charles quickly discovered he would almost prefer the noise to the deceptive quiet before all hell broke loose.

With his father's help Charles was soon settled as comfortably as he could be among the furs. Alex ran up to them at that point and carefully placed Charles' pack next to him. Brian reached over the side and gripped his son's hand with a look in his eyes that Charles could not quite place.

"My elite will be stationed out there to keep an eye on you," Brian said carefully. "They won't let anyone hurt you."

Charles nodded, nervously. The intention was not to hurt the female or uke in heat, but it happened occasionally. Usually when the stakes were high and there was such a large number of suitors--like there was now--things could get out of control fast in the chaos. Strangely, that didn't seem to scare him nearly as much as not knowing who he would be tied to for the rest of his life.

"They will answer to me if they fail," Brian continued, with a growl. He looked at Charles' shieldmates. "Get him there safely then get your tails back here. The males will not tolerate your presence even before the fight begins."

The three young wolves nodded grimly, taking the situation as seriously as any battle. Their Alpha shared one last, long look with his pup. "Everything will be all right," his father repeated his earlier promise with one last squeeze to Charles' hand before the hand cart lurched into motion. Charles couldn't help but feel that his father kept saying it because he needed to believe it was true. Charles needed to believe it, too.


End file.
